My Lady's Visage
by baka deshi
Summary: [Complete] Sesshoumaru, Jaken, Rin...and an unorthodox twist to their tale.
1. In my Lady's Visage

**My Lady's Visage**  
Part 1 of 2

Author's Note: Still cleaning out the closet and still working on Half-light, for those of you who care – I feel so supremely bad for not updating in so long ^_^;;; But I wrote this quite a while ago, and another story on this site finally helped me summon up the courage to post it. Warning: this is somewhat experimental, so please keep an open mind and give me a chance, ne? ^_^;;; 

This fic also ignores certain filler episodes of the anime since it was written prior to them. Please ignore episode 79 ^_~

It is night again, and my lady is already moving. Without breakfast again, I see, although I've long since given up trying to convince her. My master would not be pleased to know she goes without eating, but she is grown now and can do as she pleases. 

It's not as if I can stop her. 

We wander aimlessly these days, without any pretense of direction; were I any less obedient I might have taken the lead long ago. I am but a lowly kappa though, and I must follow her instead, regardless of my thoughts on the matter. She is my master's daughter, and I cannot touch. 

I have been her regent forever, although I harbor no particular illusions of mating her. I'm sure my master (long may his name be spoken) is reserving a special place in hell for whoever actually does that. He was a possessive one, that's for sure. Old-fashioned, if I dare say it, but caring—in his own fashion. 

Besides, my lady is far too good for one such as me, who does not even have a second form. Sometimes I wish I could have learned more from the master--that I could even have a chance at the second life like he had, but those times are already past. Sometimes I can't believe he gave it up, though I hear he did it for her—to protect her. I, the humble servant, shall probably never know, but I took her from his side and cared for her just as I took the wash to the river, and I have nothing else I can do but serve her in his absence. 

I still miss him. Hell, she still misses him, although she rarely mentions it. I can see it in her eyes though, every now and again - whenever I catch her brushing his pelt. Those beautiful, spirited eyes I admire so dearly—gods, the fire inside them—dim so quickly it almost breaks my heart, and then she turns away like she knows I am watching her. Maybe she does, I was never very good at telling. 

Sometimes I regret not paying much attention to her when she was younger, and perhaps she does too---her smiles dried up over the years, but every now and again she treats me to one, hiking up the corner of her mouth to show me she still notices my presence. It's the laughter that hurts the worst though…somehow, when I wasn't watching, those little giggles evaporated into silence. I didn't even notice how much I missed her whimsy until it was gone, I was so focused on getting her to stay still for her lessons. My lord always wanted her to have an education, and I taught her everything I knew—but I cannot teach her to smile again. 

She stops abruptly, and I nearly trip over my staff trying not to bump into her. The wind rustles lightly through her clothing, and for a moment the moon is her crown, lighting her face until she looks more like an astral creature. Untouchable. Ethereal. I distantly feel my eyes take leave of their sockets, although they already bug out to a ridiculous degree. 

"We will rest here," she states simply, before gliding toward the river. She looks so much like my lord, hair streaming regally behind her, that my mind begins to burn with the memories. She even speaks like him now, trying so hard to mimic his concise patterns—sometimes it makes me feel like he really does still live, buried deep within her. 

Kappa do not have hearts, but mine aches for her anyway. 

There are times when I would give anything to get her to throw that guise away and rip that lying expression off her face, but I fear I don't have the strength. I cannot even protect her anymore, not even as her regent—this old body can barely keep up with her youthful strides, let alone her battles. And when I have tried to lay down my worthless life for her she somehow ends up saving me; the shame of it is unbearable. So I must remain silent, although it hurts to see her so subdued.

She returns now, her elegant cheeks shining with wetness, and I know it is my turn to enter the waters. I have never entirely understood her need for modesty, when I have seen her naked so many times before, but perhaps it's just another thing we kappa cannot understand. I was born in water and raised in rivers, so I have never gotten used to these "clothes" they force me to wear---although my lord always assured me they are utterly necessary. It was one of the easiest ways to amuse him, I think--asking why I need to wear clothes--and although he never grinned outright I could see him wagging his tail on the inside. I have become accustomed to the hat though---it helps keep the moisture in my skull while I move on land, something a kappa cannot survive without. 

She used to steal it a lot. I wish I hadn't punished her for it so harshly. 

The river is colder than I expected, sending icy fingers crawling over my admittedly thick skin. I wonder why she didn't call for me to heat it up—the river spirits would gladly obey me. I summon one of them now with a binding scroll and the little eddy obeys happily, bothering the lazier hot water sprites until they come roaring to the surface. Much better. I bind them too, and they begin to dance around me merrily, falling easily into the circular currents of a mini-hot spring. Perhaps I will seek out a real hot spring later this week and encourage my lady to take some time off her travels, though I doubt she will accept. I ask the little eddy if there are any nearby, but since it is but a young river it is too immature to talk to the other waters of the area. I shall have to try searching myself. 

It is not long before I hear my lady's voice wafting over the wind, and I must resign myself to crawling out of my sanctuary. I do not wish to go, but she has some task for me by the sound of it, and it is best not to keep one's master waiting. 

I _am keeping my master waiting though. _

I dress slowly, not wanting to meet the end of the night's rumination, but as always it comes anyway—the face of my master at the end of his life, beckoning to me. I never dream, but the image assaults me constantly if I let my guard down. Or if I start thinking about it too much, like I am right now. 

He's talking to me now as he did back then, those swollen, purple lips moving slowly. His eyes are starting to fade to pale yellow, and the blood is slowing, although I did not notice those things at that time. In my mind, I can see my younger self flailing frantically and it makes me cringe to have been so mindless. Better I had spent those last few seconds listening to my master than trying to save what was so obviously lost. Better I had heard those last words, so I could know what he wanted me to do. I would have taken on a thousand enemies but it would have made no difference; one little kappa cannot possibly hold his own against one who can kill his master. To this day, I cannot tell if he is angry that I did not follow him in death. Maybe he still calls me to join him so he can settle the score. Maybe he forgives me, and his spirit still waits—although I cannot find it in my heart to believe that. I cannot hear his words, and thus this poor old retainer can think of only one truth. 

Better to serve my lady in life than my master in death. 

I return to camp feeling somehow justified—somehow peaceful. My lady is relaxing gracefully, as always, leaning up against a tree near the pack animal, and I begin to go about the usual chores. 

"Jaken-sama!" a high-pitched voice suddenly cries. I shudder and brace myself for the impending storm dismounting Ah-Un. 

There is but one thing I don't understand. 

I still do not know what my lady wants with the human girl. 

* * *

Confused? More is coming…it may make more sense then you think ^_~ And yes, I've taken several things into consideration. Until then, click that review button!


	2. In my Lord's Name

**In my Lord's Name**  
Part 2 of 2  


I think you're all going to hate me now—I don't think many people got what I was hinting at ^_^;;;; Keep an open mind—this isn't how I usually think about the characters either ^_~ 

As for the timeline question, this is set somewhere in the 40's (after Sesshoumaru claimed Toukijin). 

* * *

He's watching me again, the old fool. 

I give him a stern glare but he only shies physically, not mentally—those pus-ball eyes are still fixated on me, making my skin crawl. I don't mind him raising his eyes to me, not usually, but something upsets me about the way he is staring right now. How his beak-mouth is twitching into something resembling a frown. 

How, if he didn't know any better, I'd swear he were pitying me. 

I turn away quietly in the simple routine we've become accustomed to; I do not speak and he takes my silence and makes his own meaning out of it. He immediately begins babbling about starting the dinner fire, and I leave him to his self-instigated frenzy. What he actually thinks is no concern of mine, but I will not have him show pity. I cannot afford that luxury to anyone. 

Least of all myself. 

I reach up and sink my claws into the tree trunk behind me, losing my thoughts for a moment in the simple act of shredding. I am not normally so needlessly destructive, but today I feel restless, and I cannot think. We have changed positions twice this night already, and still I cannot relax. Irrational, really—the border is watched, and none of the Eastern Lord's guardians would dare cross the lines of my territory. I've heard Lord Suiichi is somewhat less strict on the issue, but I care little for his pleas for free passage. I think the fat bastard is still surprised we held out after my father died—I doubt his plans ever included bargaining for rights in these lands. 

My left side is tingling again, more painfully than usual, and I cannot hide my annoyance any longer—I bury my claws into the tree, making it scream. I thought once—foolishly, of course, but who could blame me---that the limb would grow back, but those faint, ghostly twinges remain what they are—ghosts. And no matter how much of my false-self I change, the ghosts still keep haunting me, and I cannot replace it. 

What is done to the true-self is done permanently, but I cannot deny my guilt in the matter. I wanted to fight him as myself, not in this lying false-form, and Father's sword was too powerful for me. 

The tree shudders above me, and I finally release it. It continues to tremble, but does not fall. 

A slight breeze licks my check, making me shiver down to my toes, and I faintly realize I am still wet from my bathing. As I reach down to grab a spare cloth, I notice my reflection staring back at me in my armor. Handsome. I like this particular false-form, it suits me better than first ones I tried. Perhaps next time the moon cycle goes around my power will have increased enough to broaden these shoulders, or shorten the hair—I have never liked how long it turned out. I care for it dearly, but the length hints at my gender too much for my comfort. And I despise the human fashion of keeping it up in a hair tie—there are so many better things to do with it. 

Sometimes, I let the little one tie it into braids. 

She is playing with Jaken right now—or, bothering him, more accurately---and it's hard to ignore their antics although I'd like to. She reminds me of myself, I think, knocking that foppish hat off —and he smacks her. Also a familiar sight, and unwelcome. 

"Jaken…" I warn once in my gravely voice, and he starts his usual groveling, which I promptly ignore. Rin giggles and kicks him, and it's even harder not to laugh seeing the old man tip face-forward into the ground. I frown instead, but it's difficult. 

Damn that girl, she complicates everything. 

"Rin, stop bothering Jaken." 

She nods at me and picks up his hat at once, although there's little hope she'll return it peacefully. As I suspected, she snatches it away from his outstretched claws immediately before tearing off into the underbrush. Kids. 

Jaken is staring at me again, and I don't bother to repress the growl this time. I know I must be acting strange tonight, but the anger is beginning to overwhelm me. I huff angrily and turn quickly to avoid breaking my composure. I can still hear him behind me, shifting back and forth on those leathery-sounding legs of his, but finally he seems to come to a decision and crashes heavily into the brush. 

"Girl! Get back here! Why, I never--!" 

_Yes, Jaken…_I grin to myself. _You never stop being annoyed. The world could be ending tomorrow, and your first concern would still be that stupid hat, just because Father gave it to you. Hell, I bet you'd marry it if you cou--_

A new scent slices through the clearing, shattering my thoughts in an instant, and I reach for Toukijin instinctively. Hot, gritty, earthy sweat interlaced with a delicate scent not unlike my own; kin-scent mixed with something steely and acrid. The combination is strong enough to make my nose itch, but I refuse to scratch at it. I have only one family member left, and only he could be coarse enough to stink of humans. 

The half-breed is coming. 

Somewhere in the back of my head I hope Jaken has the sense to take Rin out of range before Inuyasha gets too close, although I don't expect this fight to go badly. There are other scents trailing after his, mostly human by the sourness, and if his bitch is anywhere near I'm sure he can be suitably distracted. 

His scent practically burns in my nose, and I can already taste the bile in the back of my throat. Despicable, this creature approaching. Everything I ever worked for, every goal I had ever set---all of it, taken for the sake of one simple hanyou. He shames me without knowing it, which is perhaps the worst insult of all, but like all the others I must endure. I do not understand my father's wishes, but I can respect his request not to kill the hanyou. 

But for the sake of my territory, I will-- 

Then, as quickly as it came, the scent fades. 

For a moment I don't know how to react, but eventually my head stops spinning and my breathing slackens, and life comes into focus again. My thoughts are full of broken sentences, questions spinning in circles: How did the scent--where is he going--what are they— 

I shake my head firmly, trying to override the instinctive impulse to hunt, and the violent urge begins to fade. The stench of their cat-beast is strong now, and I realize they're airborne, passing over. I do not like it, but at least they do not seem to be dallying. Probably just hopping the border. Funny, I can't remember scenting their transport animal before— 

---or much of anything, besides my brother. 

I would like to go after them, but my better senses tell me I should wait—at least until I know more about the last encounter. It still sends a chill down my spine, remembering that sudden, noxious spike of energy radiating out of him. Can he become a full demon, and take my territories from me? The thought has crossed my mind, especially with the power of the succession sword. I cannot believe he neglects it, tossing it around so haphazardly. It shames him, and were we on better terms I should lecture him severely. 

But then, how can the half-breed know what shame is, anyway? 

He was not the one who stood before his weeping mother and asked for his brother's clothing. He was not the one who came before his father in perfect obedience and pledged undying allegiance. He was not the one who discarded his name for a dead boy's. 

He has no right. 

My hand is closing over Toukijin's hilt in a death grip and I can practically *feel* my eyes reddening. No good, my temper is getting the better of me---father would be so displeased. He was never as brazen as I, and he always acted carefully. I sigh and lean back against the injured tree, trying desperately to calm down. Still… 

Damn, but I wish he were here. 

My eyes are starting to sting, and I have the nasty feeling I might be crying again. The shame is overwhelming, and I contemplate gouging out the offending tears before they can fall---I can always regenerate. I must be close to my heat cycle, or I wouldn't be so easily swayed. 

I will secret myself in the mountains when the time comes, deep in a cave away from prying noses, and I lay naked and trembling on the cold stone until it's over. There can be no pride to me then, no honor or guiding force beyond that bone-deep _want_, no needs beside the stomach-churning, bestial instinct to rut. I fight it until it feels like I am tearing myself apart, and then I fight even more; my false-form becomes almost completely transparent, so close am I to transforming. But I never, ever lose my control, and I never leave the cave until the cycle is over. 

My whole life is about control, and I must not lose it now. 

It would be easier if I didn't have the half-breed around to remind me. 

I suppose it's illogical to hate someone for what they don't know, but I suppose that's what offends me the most when I think about it—that the fool doesn't even know what I did for him. Although granted, it's not as though he'll ever find out: most of the ones who ever knew are dead, or too smart to say anything. I suppose Myouga knows, but there's little fear he will tell on me. I _know_ Toutousai remembers, which is most of the reason I hate the old man (besides his complete and utter incompetence). Inuyasha wasn't born though, so I cannot blame him for forgetting the day Sesshoumaru died. 

It has been so many years since I've been Ayame that I can hardly remember either, but bad memories linger like a terminal illness—they never quite leave you, and eat at your insides over the years. It ate up my mother until she too was buried, cut into her mind until I was the dead instead of my brother. 

_Sesshoumaru? Where are you? It's time to go to bed…Sesshoumaru, stop playing! Don't hide from your mother!_

She never stopped blaming Father for being away when the ambush happened; she never stopped missing her eldest, and I was the only one who could see how our household was going to ruins. For the love of our mother, I went to our father; for the sake of our territory, I claimed my brother's place. And it frightens me still, how the simple act deceived her completely. I could not control my scent or my false-form then, but she still leeched onto me as though I were actually her son. 

As if I had never existed. 

My mother died with Sesshoumaru, and there was nothing I could do to bring her back. And so I continue the only way I can—holding our lands in my father's name, as a boy that died long before me. 

I wonder if the hanyou even knows he **had** another sibling. My father always favored him, so maybe he heard the story—though I doubt it. And I cannot tell him--his existence still angers me. Until he was born, I thought I could do it…I could _be_ Sesshoumaru. And then… 

Father, I do not understand your ways. Haven't I served you well? Isn't that good enough? 

I grip Toukijin's hilt harder and snarl into the darkness, wildly calling for Inuyasha to come back. I _want_ him to face me, I _want_ him to try that fancy sword on me. I _want_ to see his face as this new sword slices through that infernal, mocking blade. I want to see Tessaiga snapped in two. 

I can forgive a mongrel's existence, but I cannot forgive the insult of that sword. 

Father gave me the weaker weapon because I am female. 

* * *

  
  
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	3. A Strange Sort of Family

Yes, folks! There will be a sequel to "My Lady's Visage", with something *gasp* passing for a real plot! (Don't worry – I'll finish a few other things around here before I worry about that ^_~) Until then, here's another page from the sketchbook – I know the fic ended already, but I just couldn't get this out of my head ^_^ 

Once again: NO, this is NOT Jaken x Rin, Jaken x Sess, or Anyone x Anyone…get your mind out of the gutter, people!   
  


* * *

The stars are out, and my lady has finally retired, thankfully. I can hear her breathing in the campsite, slow and steady, almost too quiet for these old ears to pick up. My legs are aching again, and I wish I weren't standing watch tonight…I need to soak my feet if I expect to walk very far tomorrow. But my lady deserves her rest, so I suppose I can make do with the staff for a while – it makes an excellent cane. 

She sleeps more than she used to, now that the little one has come to us—yet another concession to the small one's humanity. It relieves me though, to be honest about it; my lady never slept enough in the old days. She would run for weeks without end, although I protested every step of the way; sometimes she wouldn't rest until she collapsed, crawling wearily into a cave or some other ignoble place. Most of the time she wouldn't even bother to make a proper nest: she would pass out from sheer exhaustion before she could even settle down. And I watched over her then too, always worrying, and sometimes even praying, that she wouldn't wake up. _Stubborn pup...it would have been easier on you._

But mortality has a way of being contagious, I suppose, and her worries about the little one bleed into her own life. Little things…the way she hesitates for a moment before leaping into battle…the way she treats even inconsequential wounds…how she looks for the safest place to sleep at night. I wonder sometimes if she's trying to help the child, in an awkward sort of way—she's never been much for family, but the least she can do is stay alive. So she feeds herself more often now too, although she never indulges. What I wouldn't give for another feast of her father's – now, my master knew how to throw a party. 

I don't wish to think of him anymore tonight though, so I scrutinize the surroundings again. No sign of interlopers. No strange omens on the wind. Not even a single cloud to block the full moon's light. We are safe, and I'd be willing to bet that nothing will… 

A sudden screech pierces the air, and I whirl around to face it, ignoring the pain in my lower quarters. Something approaches, and I must sound the alarm…oh. A large falcon peers down at me curiously, clinging to a tree branch, its golden eyes as disdainful as my mistress's. A dead vole swings gently from its beak, and I am depressed to realize this is just a regular animal – its eyes are too lifeless for it to be hell spawn. 

"Sssss!" I scold. "Away with you!" It blinks, obviously not understanding, and I wave my staff at the stubborn thing. Where is my lady? Normally she would be awake at the first sign of danger…though admittedly, one puny bird is no emergency. Perhaps she was smart enough not to bother—my legs are screaming at me to bring the cane back, and I am beginning to wonder why I should care about one stupid animal. True, my lady commanded for me to keep prying eyes away from our campsite, but… 

To hell with it. I thumb my nose at the bird and swivel smartly about, trying like hell to pretend that didn't just happen. My lower limbs are throbbing now, and I _have_ to sit down somewhere. I should look for some ointment for my feet when we return to the castle, but until then I think I will have to ride on our pack beast. Hopefully, my lady will allow this poor old soul that forbidden luxury. After all, we obtained Ah-Un for her human pet. 

_I cannot help it,_ I think grumpily as I scramble down into our stakeout: _the girl is just too troublesome not to dislike most of the time._ She pesters me constantly, steals my hat, has no respect for her master…and despite all this, my lady keeps her. I could handle that, if she were treated the same, but the brat gets soft words where I get a boot. Or a stick. Or occasionally, a sword. My mistress is fair, but her punishments are harsh. 

I am still grumbling when I come across them, and as usual I am unable to find anything suitable to say. My lady is curled up against a tree trunk, sleeping with the human child. 

I have seen this more often lately, and I have the faint suspicion that their intimacy is tied directly to my absence. It is always the same, with little variation—as soon as I leave, the small one crawls into my lady's lap. And my lady, for reasons I cannot entirely fathom, allows the girl—a dirty, _human_ girl—to bury her face into her shoulder. Disgusting. And fascinating, at the same time…I cannot take my eyes off them. The gentle way my lady's fingers are splayed across the child's back…the possessive way her body curls around the child like she's shielding her against the universe. The way the child's hands are fisted in my lady's clothing, as if she's trying to pull my mistress into herself. And the peaceful look on their faces…my lady has not looked this relaxed since before her father died. 

I wrinkle my nose, annoyed with myself. I should be on guard like an obedient servant, not gawking at my mistress's fallacy. My lady is not even wearing her armor – she has taken it off, presumably to give the child a softer place to rest – and thus I should be doubly cautious. She is strong, but not completely immortal, so I fear for her safety. I always have. And yet… 

I approach her slowly, trying not to startle her – she killed me once before when I presumed to shake her awake. That was the first time she used Tenseiga, I think, though I did not know it at the time—I remembered little save a splitting headache. (There was a reason for that, though I didn't know it at the time—she had decapitated me reflexively.) I didn't even learn I had died until many years later, when she explained the true nature of the sword…by killing me again. As I said, my lady's rule is firm, and I should have known not to press the issue. 

My eyes fix on her, only her, as I crawl closer…I am not fit to approach on any other terms. She breathes in the moonbeams and turns them into her own light, it seems; her hair shines with a luminescence that can't possibly be reflection alone. Her cheeks shine too, stunningly pale despite the amount of time we spend in the sun, and her father's markings run the length of them—crimson red, the mark of his ownership. And blue, on her forehead – the sign of her mother's family. Dually owned, the both of us were, and now we serve little more than memory. Like night and day, we are these days …I have grown old and withered in my master's service, but she only becomes more beautiful, one day at a time. And yet it weighs on her more heavily, I think…at least I was only entrusted with her upbringing. _She_ is in charge of raising an empire. 

She is less guarded when she sleeps with the human, so I can run my fingers through that beautiful hair, if I move v-e-r-y slowly. I have yet to determine whether she has lost the ability to sense my presence or whether she simply knows I mean no harm. I'd like to think she doesn't mind my touch, but that is laughable: I am ugly, and I surely smell foul to her. Then again, if she truly hated my presence I would be dead – this is not the first time I have touched her, and she must be able to smell it. I regret marring such beauty, but… 

The ends of her mane slide through my fingers like silky rain, slippery strands that refuse to rest on my coarse fingers. So soft…I have always loved her hair the most, and her eyes: the two parts that endure from form to form. I have watched her fine-tune her human form over the years, broadening her shoulders and narrowing her hips, but she has never been able to change that beautiful silver hair. Not even my master's was this well-kept; I highly suspect she cleans it more often. Kappa do not have hair, due to our watery disposition, and for once I find that a pity. I would kill to have the hair she has, although I have no good place for it. Perhaps I could grow it on the backs of my arms, so I could play with it easier. 

So many memories are laced in this hair. I release it respectfully, letting the ends swing back to their proper position, and I recall the first time I saw it. My master was there, with a twinkle in his eye…her mother also, not yet twisted with malice…and my dear young mistress was playing with butterflies, stalking them through the flowers. I would like to say she had a gentler temperament then, but that would dishonor her spirit: she was really hunting, and she melted the insects she managed to catch. But that was not out of hatred, just childhood innocence…I don't think she really understood what happened when they disappeared. Fiery, my lady was, and full of energy. And then… 

I remember when she was but a pup, violently shivering after her first real injury—nearly killed in the ambush. I remember her, wild-eyed and worrying, standing over her first kill. Her fangs were dripping, dripping, with the blood of her brother's murderer, and still her mother would not see her…until she died in her brother's stead, just to appease the needs of a mad woman. She started an actor and pantomimed so well she no longer needs to pretend; she uses his name instinctively now. Even I have a hard time remembering her real name, the one I loved so dearly. 

Ayame. My little iris. 

"Ayame…" I whisper as softly as I can; I dread to think of my fate if she should actually hear. One slender ear twitches, but she does not move; she remains quietly, mercifully, at rest. In the daylight, she would slaughter me for such an insult…but at night, she is a puppy again. 

_Both of them are, really._ I consider as the little one shifts sleepily. They must snuggle together for companionship, not warmth – my lady has never bothered noticing the cold, especially not at this time of year. Perhaps we shall spend more time indoors once the ground freezes over, but for now we travel regardless of the weather. My lady too proud to let such minor things as snow storms bother her, though often I wish she would – she has youth on her side, but an old retainer like me has little defense against the cold. One winter, she wouldn't stop until she noticed the icicles hanging off my beak. 

And yet…so many concessions are made for the small one. We stop constantly during the day, just to let the human rest her silly legs, and she never even thanks us for it—ungrateful brat. And I have to feed her when she is hungry, because my lady wishes it... It's all very tiresome. She eats more often than any creature I have ever met, and yet she never seems satisfied; a few hours later she's complaining again. By my estimates, she should be several feet tall by now (and perhaps several feet wide), but she remains the same. If I didn't know better, I'd think she were some kind of demon herself. I scowl at her angelic face. I do not understand these humans. 

Nor do I understand my lady's order to keep her alive. 

Her slender brow furrows a little and she quivers as if affected by some ill wind. The human presses closer, sensing her mistress's distress---responding to my lady's needs even in sleep. My eyes narrow to slits, and I cannot help but be jealous. Not even I can serve my mistress that completely, though I have had years of practice…and this human whelp bests me in her _sleep_! My lady sighs and squeezes the girl tighter, unconsciously moving her arm farther across the little one's back. They are practically embracing now, sickening as it sounds, but still my lady trembles…I do not know why I expected otherwise. I don't know what to do for her, and I feel the beginning of the usual despair at the--- 

The little girl shifts again, sleepily moving a petite arm up to drape across my lady's shoulders, pulling herself flush against my mistress's chest. My lady quiets, content to let the child hold her. I realize suddenly that I've had it all wrong. She is not protecting the human from nightmares…the small one is comforting _her_. 

I cannot stand it. Back then, she would sleep only fitfully, and rarely would she ever permit herself to burrow in my arms. How can this trollop replace me so easily? It isn't fair, I want to shout, it isn't fair she can do what I've always wanted. I have spent my life catering to her every whim, but I have never been able to comfort her. Her mother died, and I could only watch her sobbing. Her father died, and I did _nothing_. I bow my head in shame. 

I have failed my master. 

And then I think again, watching the child smile up at my lady--watching the way my mistress holds her so peacefully. Maybe this is not any fault of mine…maybe this weakness is her salvation. 

To hell with decorum. I risk my life and snuggle into the fur ruff she wears, leaning carefully against her leg. She stirs only briefly, mumbling something incoherent, but she does not wake. I'd like to think she even shifted to make room for me—I now have a space to lie in, wedged between her hip and a cold, unyielding tree roots. I remain there, barely daring to breathe, for minutes…maybe hours… just listening to them sleep. The elegant hiss of my lady's breath, the noisy gurgle of a snot nosed human…I lean into her a little more, comforted by the sound of her heartbeat. I should not be here, I should be following my orders, but it is so _warm_ here…never mind that my lady's hip is very bony against my poor old side. 

Dawn. 

The sun rises, and it dazzles me like it never has before. She has slept through the night, completely off-guard, not waking once…We are all changing, the three of us, and I still can't decide what any of this means. 

The little one stretches, and my lady nuzzles her sleepily, stilling her protests. I squawk and affect innocence as I move away from the scene, but secretly I am smiling. I could get used to this strange sort of family. 

This human makes my lady weak…and I love the child for it.   
  


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What did you think? Too waffy? I was a bit worried about that. At any rate, if you made it this far – REVIEW! ^_^ 


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